Anatomy of a Soldier
by Philote
Summary: He was pretty sure soldiers weren’t born of the geniuses who’d always sat on the sidelines, watching.


**Anatomy of a Soldier**

By Philote

Rating: PG

Category: gen

Summary: He was pretty sure soldiers weren't born of the geniuses who'd always sat on the sidelines, watching.

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of _Stargate: Atlantis_ do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don't sue.

Author's Note: This was written for the Voyeurism challenge on sgaflashfic.

oOo

There was a clatter of stick against stick and the smack of stick against cloth and flesh. Mostly Sheppard's flesh; Teyla was landing the majority of the blows. Of course, this was her fighting style. He was still a novice here.

But he was adapting quickly enough. It was rather like watching a dance, and Rodney tilted his head slightly as he watched them move in sync. There was a graceful sort of artistry to it. Of course, Teyla could probably look graceful doing a square dance, but Sheppard was surprisingly agile as well.

He glanced sideways at Ford, wondering if the young man was noticing the things he did. But he got the impression that the Lieutenant was memorizing the execution rather than appreciating the beauty. He shifted his attention back to the dueling couple. He had been less than enthusiastic to come to this little group meeting. And he knew good and well why Ford had just happened by his lab and wanted to walk with him. Left to his own devices, he undoubtedly would have found something more worth his time and not bothered to show up.

Sheppard knew this, and Sheppard was annoyingly insistent that he join them for team training sessions. So he had sent him an escort. An armed escort, no less.

He had come grudgingly, but this part he didn't mind so much. He watched Teyla spin and forcefully connect with one of the Major's sticks, forcing it into the other and pushing both aside in one smooth motion as she smacked her other stick into his unguarded side. He winced slightly, pulling away, and she backed off.

"Okay. I think that's enough practice for Teyla right now."

Teyla bowed to him, touching her forehead to his, and Rodney saw no indication of conceit on her part. He resisted the urge to needle him—on her behalf, of course.

She moved to sit, and Sheppard gestured for Ford to come forward. The young man took up a stance in front of his superior, but eyed him a bit warily. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to take a break, sir?" he asked innocently.

Rodney couldn't help but smirk, and though Sheppard was facing away from him he could imagine the look on his face. "Thanks for looking out for me, Lieutenant, but I think I can handle it."

"Yes, sir."

They forewent any sort of weapon, simply fighting hand to hand.

Rodney had to admit, the watching was entertaining. It was the part where he had to get up and participate that he was worried about. Because the longer he watched, the more he was sure that there was no way he was going to be able to do this.

He didn't _want_ to do this. He'd never wanted or thought himself capable of a physical career. He expected he would have enough trouble hiking about with a pack strapped to his back; he'd never be able to take anyone in a physical fight.

He felt like he was back in gym class, watching the kids who were actually capable, dreading the moment when the coach forced him to get up and play. He was pretty sure soldiers weren't born of the geniuses who'd always sat on the sidelines, watching.

And he was nowhere near the physical shape of these men. He watched as they circled each other, lunging and dodging at intervals, occasionally making contact and grabbing hold of each other. Muscles strained and rippled.

This was a dance all its own, less rhythmic and flowing but no less intense. Pretty in its own way.

He almost felt like a voyeur.

But voyeurism had a sexual connotation, so unless this was some sort of militaristic foreplay, he couldn't be referred to as such.

At that moment there was a loud 'thwap,' and then Sheppard lay on the mat, blinking up at the ceiling.

Ford was looking down at him. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Oh, I'm just fine, Ford." There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. Abruptly Sheppard twisted, kicking Ford's legs out from under him, bringing him down as well. But apparently he had miscalculated Ford's weight distribution, for the young man came down hard—right on top of him. The impact undoubtedly knocked the air out of both of them, as they lay still for a moment, faces inches apart, trying to recover.

Rodney stared, thought resignedly that perhaps he was a voyeur, and then inwardly groaned. Now he had a mental image that would keep him from looking either of them in the eye for at least a week.

And for two men who moved so well while fighting, they were less-than-graceful as they tried to untangle themselves and get up. When they finally managed, Sheppard was casting dark looks Ford's way. "Teyla, why don't you beat up on Ford for a bit. McKay, c'mere."

Teyla rose and went to meet Ford, who was absently rubbing at his chest as he moved away. But Rodney didn't budge. He simply raised an eyebrow. "You are aware that I can't do that, right?"

"That's why you're going to get up and come over here so I can teach you."

"You just want someone you can beat up on for a change."

On the other side of the room, Ford made a sound that was suspiciously like a snicker. When the Major spun to look at him, he turned it into a cough, and spent a few moments trying not to choke.

Then Sheppard turned back to him. "McKay," he growled threateningly.

"Please, Major. We both know that I'm the brains of this operation. I have you three to do my fighting for me. Though, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to stick with Teyla from now on."

This earned him a closed-lip grin that, accompanied by the narrowed eyes, warned him that he was pushing it. He pasted on a beatific grin of his own in response.

Over Sheppard's shoulder he saw Teyla handing Ford his sticks and starting to instruct him. Apparently, their two younger members thought it best to stay out of this.

Sheppard stalked towards him, gaze vaguely threatening. "I don't do bubble wrap, McKay. If you're going to be out there with me, you're going to be able to take care of yourself."

Rodney narrowed his own eyes, but responded to the unspoken threat by slowly pushing himself to his feet.

"There's my good little scientist." With that, Sheppard turned away before he could see Rodney's sneer. He walked a few feet away, then turned back.

Rodney, however, hadn't moved from his position by the bench. He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the Major with suspicion.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Sheppard cajoled, that disarming, trust-me little smile in place.

"There's been nothing but hurt going on here, Major," Rodney shot back, feeling no need to mention the artistry of dance or rippling muscles aloud. "Look, I'm never going to be any good at this. What's the point? There are about six hundred better things I could be doing with my time." He didn't wait for a response but rather spun and walked towards the door, thinking perhaps he might get away if he simply acted self-assured.

That delusion was quickly shattered. He got about a foot before a strong hand gripped his arm. Before he knew what was happening he was pulled onto the mat, spun around, and suddenly in the air. After a dizzying flip, he hit the floor with an "oof." He registered dimly that Sheppard had a hand under his upper back, and had thus cushioned his fall. However, this did little to endear the man to him at the moment.

"What the hell was that for?" he croaked angrily. "What happened to 'I'm not gonna hurt you?'"

The other man knelt at his side. Sheppard's expression was serious, which drew Rodney's attention more than anything. The Major leaned closer to him, lowering his voice such that this part of the conversation was private. "I don't expect you to be a soldier, Rodney. I don't _want_ you to be a soldier. But I do want you to stay alive."

He met the hazel eyes, taking a moment to read them. Sheppard allowed it, freely letting him see the gravity and resolve there. Finally he continued, "To that end, you need to learn to protect yourself if we're not able to."

After a few beats of silence Rodney nodded solemnly, once. Then he said, "And I might find this touching, if you hadn't just broken half the bones in my body." Sheppard cracked a grin again, and Rodney shifted stiffly. "Ow," he whimpered pitifully.

Above him, Sheppard rolled his eyes. "I was making a point, and you are not broken. Get up."

But despite the brusque order, he held out a hand. Rodney made a point of pouting for a moment before accepting it, allowing Sheppard to haul him to his feet.

He took up a stance beside the Major, and tried to imitate the basics he was being taught. By the time Sheppard called the session to a close, he was exhausted and sweat-drenched and sore. And strangely satisfied.

He was definitely better at watching. But, well…maybe he could learn.

He was a genius, after all.

oOo


End file.
